Perpetual Emotion
by Dibsthe1
Summary: Dib and Gaz are at cross purposes. Much Dib and Gaz angst but Zim lightens things up. Warning: Violence and two brief scenes of animal suffering.
1. One Dark Side

Disclaimer: I don't own Invader Zim-clk-on't own Invader Zim-clk-on't own Invader Zim-clk SKRRRRTCH! Jhonen Vasquez does.

Thank you to any and everybody who has given me any kind of insight at all, even indirectly so, into what could possibly cause a character to act the way Gaz does.

I want to dedicate this fic to everyone who hears "America hates Dib" as an observation, not a command. I hope all five of you especially enjoy reading it.

Perpetual Emotion

One Dark Side

Gaz sat down on the front step and lifted her face from her game long enough to look up and down the street, then sighed in frustration and annoyance. It was getting closer to suppertime and still no Dib. When he came home, he was really going to get it for what he'd done this time.

"Stupid boring neighbourhood. Nothing ever happens," she grumbled, as a circus billboard was going up further along the block and an ice cream wagon jingled merrily down the street. Two driveways away, a small child was wheeling his tricycle around and around in circles. When he tried too sharp a turn, he lost his balance and the tricycle toppled over. When all Gaz could hear was a barely audible whimper, she turned away again in boredom. "Eh."

Gaz had been born with an unfortunate biochemistry, one which registered none but the most extreme stimulation. It took a great deal to get her attention, and consequently very few things affected her. In the same way that a hearing impaired person will shout, Gaz used excessive force to get her point across, with her unfortunate brother Dib receiving the full force of this.

The siblings had such different interests that whenever Dib tried to share something with her that he found exciting and interesting, he was met with the choice to shut up or get beat up. And when Gaz decide she did want his attention, well, those were invariably the very times that that malicious idiot had deliberately chosen to keep to himself! For such monumentally unforgivable offenses, Gaz would smite him as brutally as the highest high priestess of the idol Revenge.

By adding the above to a superhuman stubbornness and never quite outgrowing her infantile self-centeredness, Gaz had presented a formidable challenge to her late mother. A kind and conscientious parent, Ms. Membrane had been greatly disturbed that such a sister was to be included among the girls Dib had to be trained not to hit, and in the five years allotted to her after Gaz's birth, had done her very best to instill some kind of respect for her brother, not to mention self-control, into her daughter. Just as she wasn't about to let Dib hit a girl, neither was she willing to permit Gaz to hit someone who wasn't allowed to hit her back.

At first she tried reasoning and explaining, that it wasn't fair, that it hurt him, that nice people don't do that sort of thing. When Dib continued his happy chattering for no other reason than the sole purpose of irritating her, that simply told Gaz that she hadn't hurt him enough yet.

Then Ms. Membrane tried making sure her children shared as many pleasant experiences as possible. She was constantly planning trips to the park, the zoo, the circus, the movies, hoping Gaz would figure that at least some of the fun came from having Dib nearby. However, not only did Gaz always seem less than amused, seeing Dib daring to enjoy something she didn't made an already difficult situation still worse.

Next Ms. Membrane tried getting Gaz away to herself and rewarding her for being good... only to see Gaz run off to immediately to shake her bribe in Dib's face and gloat.

Ms. Membrane didn't know what to try next and she was fast running out of options. In this post-feminist era, child psychologists who would dare discourage a girl from acting "empowered" were few and far between. Well, power bought with it responsibility, which was something that Ms. Membrane was beginning to despair that Gaz would ever learn.

Even though she knew it would have doubled the actual violence, Ms. Membrane often wished that Gaz had been a boy or Dib a girl. To expect anyone to just sit back and take physical abuse was outrageous enough; how could it be in any way right or moral to require this of a pre-school child? If Gaz could only get hit back herself, that might be the only thing that could possibly get through that hard head of hers; nothing Ms. Membrane had tried yet was making the situation the least bit better.

In desperation Gaz's mother finally resorted to smacking her on the bottom and when Gaz refused to cry, Ms. Membrane had difficulty gauging how much force was enough. And the exceptional nervous system that didn't respond to either the pleasant experiences or the gentler swats registered only the stiffest spankings.

Afterwards Ms. Membrane would hide the tears in her own eyes as she explained that she loved Gaz as much as ever, that she wished she didn't have to do this, that she was trying to spare Gaz even worse punishments later on, such as having no friends if she hit the other skool children, or going to jail if she still hit people after she grew up. Gaz stared back dry-eyed, her resentment blocking out the message, resolving to pass on the beating the very next time she was alone with Dib because this whole thing, after all, started out as HIS fault... with the promise of another, worse beating if he told on her.

_Mommy gets mad at me when HE'S around. Dib's greedy, he keeps all the fun for himself. So punish him for smiling, Mommy, because I don't see anything to smile for. Well? Why aren't you?_

One sunny winter day shortly before Christmas Ms. Membrane took both kids out to the country for a sleigh ride. That would surely put Gaz in a good mood, and Dib, bless his heart, enjoyed just about everything! On the way back, right before they passed through an intersection on the edge of town, they noticed several cars stopped up ahead, including a police car, and crowds of people staring intently at something. Both children were in the back seat this time, and whatever was happening was on Dib's side of the car. Ms. Membrane prudently slowed down as the car approached the commotion, and finally they were close enough to see the cause. When they saw what it was, it held even Gaz's interest.

A slender little brown dog had just been run over. Yelping piteously, it was pulling itself around in circles across the reddened snow, dragging a pink leash and glancing back now and then towards its hind legs as if wondering why they wouldn't move any more. A girl of about 10, wearing a pale green one piece snow suit, sat nearby on the ground, hands hiding her mouth, her crying face a startling scarlet. A man in a black overcoat and whose face matched the color of the snow, having managed to climb out of his car, now needed to lean against it for support; his legs were visibly shaking and he dared not turn to face the gathering crowd. One police officer was holding back the people; the other was stooping down to the girl. The little dog continued to crawl around and around, yelping, yelping...

Roughly Gaz elbowed Dib aside. This time he was only too glad to surrender his place and buried himself into the opposite corner of the backseat, weeping with as much abandon as if the dog had been his own.

Gaz felt something. It didn't feel good, but Gaz almost never felt anything. "Mommy go back!" Gaz shouted. She wanted to figure out what she was feeling. Was this what her mother meant all those times she talked about feeling bad because somebody else was hurt or sad?

"No, Gaz honey. There is nothing we can do to help."

"I said go back! I wanna see - "

"No Gaz we are not going back! We can't help!" Ms. Membrane wanted to put as much distance between the car and that horrible scene as she could.

Fuming, Gaz turned on Dib. _This is your fault! Just because YOU don't want to see! We never get to do ANYTHING I ask for, you laughed all over nothing more than a stupid boring sleigh ride and now you won't even...!_

Gaz grabbed Dib's hair scythe and leaned her entire weight backwards against him, kicking and punching with her free arm and leg. As Dib was already crying like his heart was broken, and as Ms. Membrane was doing her best not to look back, it was a minute or so before she noticed what was going on in the back seat.

Immediately she pulled over, tore Gaz away from Dib and screamed "What on EARTH do I keep TELLING you about that!" before enthroning a none too repentant, even smug, Gaz in the front seat, safely away from a now extremely unhappy Dib.

The more Ms. Membrane and Gaz tried to get their viewpoints across to the other, the worse it would get for Dib. Like most people, their extended family swallowed hook, line, and sinker the belief that no little girl could ever be anything else but harmless, sweet and innocent, which even further supported Gaz's belief that she was in the right. At Ms. Membrane's wake, even as Gaz kicked Dib in a funeral parlor packed with eyewitnesses, they still continued believing it. Dib's father usually showed him more discipline than support, so that at the age of six Dib now found himself with no one to turn to for help.

As the small boy's mother came out of the house to comfort him and pick up the tricycle, Gaz glared up and down the street once again, refusing to allow herself to wonder if something had happened to Dib. On their way home from skool, Zim had run past them shrieking some stupidity about a big boot stomping all over the world, and Dib had run off after Zim, shouting back over his shoulder to Gaz that this wouldn't take long and he would be home soon.

Some part of Gaz always felt anxious when someone left her, because Gaz had a horrible secret. One day her mother had actually taken away Gaz's game for doing nothing more than throwing something or other at Dib, and for so outrageous an injustice Gaz had wished her mother would die... which was exactly what happened! That was the only thing that had ever scared Gaz, and she still hoped nobody would ever find out what she had done. It was really Dib's fault, of course, for having caused her to throw something at him, but Gaz was certain that she would be the one to get the blame. After all, that's what her mother always did... punish Gaz when it was really Dib who started it.

To add even further to the growing list of things she couldn't have the second she wanted them, Gaz no longer dared risk wishing death on anybody, instead venting her frustrations with actual injuries and insults. No matter how ferocious her physical or verbal assaults, nobody ever died... and each such attack that didn't result in a death eased her anxiety for at least a little while. But as soon as people began finding out what she had done, they would certainly abandon her one by one.

On top of that, her father, who was nicer to her than her mother had ever been, had begun spending more and more time away from the house. That, too, was Dib's fault. Their father couldn't stand listening to Dib's nonstop nonsense either and was forever telling him to give up that stupid parajunk. Gaz wished Duke Nukem was her brother instead, someone who not only knew when to keep his mouth shut but who went around shooting, destroying and blowing up everything! Now THAT would rock!

Gaz squinted, her irritation increasing. People leaving. That was the story of her life. On days like this, it was all Gaz could do not to wish Dib dead too. Taking one more look around for any sign of him approaching, Gaz now noticed a ginger tabby cat slowly walking through their side yard towards the back of the house. Ah. Animals wouldn't leave you.

Gaz walked into the side yard, bent down and wiggled her fingers. "Here kitty kitty kitty."

The cat looked in Gaz's general direction and slowly blinked, as if to declare it had heard her but was ignoring her, then turned to head elsewhere. Cats are not exactly renowned for their tendency to come when called.

But when Gaz wanted something, she wanted it NOW. "HERE KITTY KITTY KITTY!" This had no effect on the cat at all.

Gaz now shouted, "I SAID HERE KITTY KITTY KITTY!" stomping toward the cat with firm, measured strides.

The cat looked at Gaz once more and upon seeing her threatening demeanor, crouched before hopping into the nearby shrubbery along the outer wall of the house next door.

When Gaz looked around for something to throw she noticed a stone the size of her fist. She bent down for it and after an elaborate wind up, fired it with all the force she could muster directly into the spot where the shrub's leaves had stopped moving. A pained yowl, followed a moment later by a second one, told her that the stone had indeed hit its intended target. Smirking with satisfaction Gaz tucked her GameSlave under her elbow and stalked back indoors, slapping her hands together to shake the dust off them. There. That would teach that cat to run away when she called it.

Finally Dib got around to showing up. "Sorry Gaz," he said, panting as if something had actually happened, "but it was all... all for a good cause! I've as good as... as good as got him! I found out how to save the earth! I know what... what Zim's plans are! Well, by that I mean his immediate plans, his... his short term plans, but once I stop them, the next step will be... !"

Nothing could possibly be that exciting. Not facing the necessary direction to notice Gaz's glare, Dib continued babbling, until she wondered why she had ever wanted him to come home. Only when he started preparing dinner did she finally remember.

Dib had just begun dinner preparations when he remembered it was laundry day. He collected his clothes and bed sheets easily enough, but getting Gaz's was trickier. While the world would end if he set foot in her room, she was equally enraged if he dared ask her to bring her own clothes out for him. The best solution he had yet found to this dilemma was to go right ahead and start the washer; this usually prompted Gaz to remember that she had wash too, tell him he'd do it now if he knew what was good for him, and proceed to fling her own laundry out into the hall where it was safe for him to touch it. By now Dib had also learned that when doing the wash he'd be wise to conceal all signs of eagerness to go out; the greater his urgency, the more likely Gaz was to wait until seconds before the entire cycle would have finished before ordering him to stop the machine and sit there and wait... and wait... and wait... while she played her game until she just happened to be in the mood to take the minute or two necessary to gather her own clothes.

Dib forced himself to act as if he had no particular plans for after supper so his good old laundry trick worked, relatively soon, too. As he bent to pick up Gaz's clothes, she shoved down on the back of his head so he lost his balance and landed face first in the pile of dirty clothing. "That's for not waiting for me, and also for making me do all that work!"

Dib scowled at Gaz's retreating back, but not for long. His mind was too busy hatching ideas for stopping Zim's evil plan.

As first the washer and then the dryer whirred in the background, Dib prepared supper, which he didn't seem able to do without talking non-stop about every single thing that had happened throughout the entire day. Gaz continued to play her game and tried, none too successfully, to tune him out. At her mother's wake everybody had talked non-stop the entire day, and now too much conversation always made Gaz uneasy; suppose the subject of her mother came up? At least her father covered for her, speaking as if her mother was still alive. A rock in the never ending stream of Dib's meaningless babbling, Gaz felt her earlier anger building once again, but didn't trust herself to say anything more than, "Shut up, Dib," and even that only once or twice.

Before long Dib would forget himself and start talking again. Throughout his cheerful chatter he sometimes paused to ask Gaz a question, a question which always remained unanswered. Dib resumed talking when he could no longer endure the lonely silence.

Dib continued to talk as they ate dinner and the more he did, the more irritated Gaz became. She even caught herself beginning to wish he would choke on his next mouthful if that's what it would take to stop his endless yapping, but instead she jacked up the venom in snarling, "I said SHUT! The hell. UP! Dib!" which to her relief actually worked for the rest of the meal. Afterwards, as Dib cleared the table and prepared to wash the dishes himself, Gaz returned to the living room, unpausing the game which she had managed to put on hold just long enough to gulp down her dinner.

Presently Dib called out from the sink, his arms sunk to the elbows in hot, soapy water. "Hey Gaz! I used extra green peppers this time! You know, your favorite topping? And how about that little bit of swiss cheese along with the mozzarella, huh? What'd you think?"

"Eh. Now SHUT... UP!" Gaz played on.

Though hurt that his additional efforts had gone unappreciated if even noticed, Dib took her silence as a good sign. "Whew, she's in a good mood tonight. Only three or four shut ups and no insults at all," he muttered, folding the clothes in the laundry room. "So I guess she's not mad any more that I ran off before we got home this afternoon..." his face brightened, "...if she was ever mad in the first place! If she doesn't want to talk today either, she won't miss me too much when I go out tonight! So here I am all worried over nothing! Heh heh! Silly, silly me!"

After moving the little table in the hall closer to Gaz's door and setting her clothes on it (Never again would he just leave them down on the floor!) Dib put his own clothes away and finally collected his weapons, alien sleep cuffs and several fishing nets' worth of mesh tied together.

On his way to the front door, Dib took a detour through the living room to notify Gaz that he was leaving and to assure her he would be back. "Gaz, I'll be back as soon as - " he started to say, but stopped in midbreath. Gaz was lowering her game with ominous slowness.

"You're. Going. Out. AGAIN!" As Gaz slid off the chair, she set her GameSlave aside, causing a terrible foreboding to creep over Dib. "That's the third time this week, Dib" she growled, taking firm, measured strides up to him.

"Gaz... what is the point in my staying home? I try talking to you but all I ever get is - "

"SHUT UP!" Gaz exploded, slapping his face hard enough to dislodge his glasses; being all too used to this he managed to catch them in midair. It was a good thing they had shatterproof lenses for facing the bullies at skool; such lenses were useful when the bully at home started in on him too.

_Yep, that's exactly what I get all right..._

"What is THAT important? Stay home and... and DO something!" Gaz demanded icily. "You... you never do anything around here!"

All Dib could do was gape. "I don't do what?" he finally managed to say. "Who made dinner? Who cleaned everything up afterwards? Who washed the... our... YOUR clothes? Who is even now - "

"A burglar or anything could just walk in here!"

_And God's own mercy on the burglar that enters this house while you're here._ With his own eyes Dib had seen Gaz make lightning strike and set trees ablaze. What in the universe could make her think SHE was the one needing protection?

"Gaz, please. I'll be back just as soon as I can. This is beyond even life and death! You know about 911, you've got all those killer robots and you just lock all the - "

The next time Gaz went to hit him Dib was expecting it, but when he moved to block the blow she flew into an even wilder rage. "How... dare... you... lift your hand... to ME!" Dib turned to run, but Gaz caught the trailing edge of his trench coat and began to hail punches and kicks everywhere she could think of.

"No, Gaz, please! STOP! PLEASE!" As the pummelling continued, first Dib's fists, then more and more of his arms all the way up to the shoulders, twitched under the effort it took him not to lash out and strike back. Far too much, this reminded Dib of the only thing he could now remember about a TV movie he'd been watching one day long ago. Having taken the hero prisoner, the bad guy first made sure his captive was tied up "nice and snug" before launching a long brutal physical attack. Up until that point, Dib had thought this was the most exciting movie he'd ever seen and had been dying to find out what happened next. But so disturbing had he found this particular incident that he preferred to turn off the TV and walk away rather than continue watching something so cruelly unfair. Now if they could only make remotes for real life...

"**WHY**... are you always... **OUT?"** Gaz screamed, repeatedly slamming a foot into his shin, his thigh, his calf for emphasis. "**WHY... WHY..._ WHY!_** Answer me! I said answer me God**DAMMIT!**" She wound up for an exceptionally vicious kick. "**WHYYYY!**"

"Please, Gaz... that's enough... " Dib prayed it would soon stop; real damage could result from a hard kick to the knee.

Finally exhausted, Gaz stopped kicking and punching, but now her real assault began. She leaned in until her face was close to his before speaking slowly and quietly, every syllable writhing with contempt. "Why was I cursed with this useless excuse of a brother. You're the most worthless thing ever created."

Hurt quivered in Dib's eyes. Having found the spot, Gaz proceeded to dig herself in. "You're NOTHING to me... but an IDIOT!"

Desperately Dib squeezed his eyes shut against the tears inside. He bit his lip and held his breath, begging himself, _Don't... let... the shark... smell.. blood..._

Turning aside suddenly, he brought a hand up to wipe his eye, quickly but not quickly enough.

"Whiner... _WHINER!_" Gaz spat the words in his face.

"Well WHY do you want me AROUND then Gaz?" Dib blurted, flinging up his arms with exasperation as he suddenly swung to face her. "All you ever say to me is 'Shut up'!" He fought to keep his voice steady; with alarming speed the situation was moving beyond what he could endure. "What is it you want me to DO? Sit around all night looking at you? You don't enjoy that

too much either! "

"BE NORMAL!" Gaz shrieked back at him. "NO MORE talking about your stupid aliens! EVER!"

Even though Dib had a good idea what she would say, he thought he saw a chance to make a point. "And if I did talk about something else... would you please listen? Just for a few minutes... please? Maybe even say something other than 'shut up' before you turned your game back on?" Instead he paled even more, seeing her eyes ignite. _Oh, no... _

Gaz just stared at him for a second, her eyes bulging with disbelief. "You mean... you... want me... to turn off... MY. GAME." Even after demanding that he abandon his favorite subject completely, Gaz was affronted to the point of outrage at the very idea of meeting him halfway for even a few minutes. She flew into him afresh, eyes blazing. "You _idiot_... WHO NEEDS YOU! Get out of my sight! GET OUT I SAID GET OUT GET OUT **_GEEETOOOUUUT_!**"

Gaz watched as Dib bolted, barely managing to put his glasses back on a split second before he would have crashed into the doorframe. How had that happened? She had ended up screaming at him to do the last thing she wanted him to do.

Dib fled as quickly as he could with the aches crying out all over him. Had no alien ever arrived to threaten the planet, his haste would have been no less. In shame he kept his eyes turned down to the sidewalk; he couldn't bring himself to look up and see all those houses in which all those happy families lived. Dib vowed to stay out all night rather than return to more of this.

With only nine months separating them, Dib and Gaz were actually the same age for three months of each year; Gaz's birthday was in November and Dib's was earlier this month, February. Once again this year that icy, sunless day had passed by without so much as a verbal acknowledgement, let alone a card, from Gaz, even after the cake and presents he'd honored HERS with... and despite her being undeniably old enough to return the consideration.

Why the hell couldn't she still ever lift one precious finger around the house? She wasn't a baby any more, however much she continued acting like one. And that pile... of sheer, steaming... BULLSHIT! he kept hearing about "protecting" his "little" "sister... " Which one was that? The "little" "sister" who was so demonic that she ignited fires with her glare? The "little" "sister" who had assaulted him with neither fairness nor mercy? The "little" "sister" whose malice could pull the tears from his eyes in 25 words or less? The "little" "sister" who with spite and savagery had driven him from his own home? THAT ONE?

As the burning behind his eyes built to a throbbing behind his temples, Dib slowed and stopped, then leaned heavily against a telephone pole and closed his eyes, massaging his forehead and working back over his scalp with a shaking hand. He pressed his mouth tight against the vinegar flavored revolt boiling up through his throat; for the challenge he would face in a few minutes, he would need every bit of energy the food he had eaten could offer. After fighting back this reaction, Dib staggered on.

Finally, through the trees up ahead, Dib could see coming into view the maul Zim had targeted. While he had no idea how one could possibly start conquering the world from the starting place of a shopping maul, knowing that Zim was planning to do so made Dib responsible for stopping him.

He pounded a fist into his palm. Here at last was somebody he COULD repay like for like, punch for punch. An injury received from an enemy of the earth would at least serve a higher purpose; an injury inflicted by Zim would actually make some kind of sense.

-

End of Part One


	2. The Light Stuff in the Middle

Disclaimer: I don't own Invader Zim-clk-on't own Invader Zim-clk-on't own Invader Zim-clk SKRRRRTCH! Jhonen Vasquez does.

The Light Stuff in the Middle

Intending to stop Zim from entering the shopping maul, Dib ran around and around it as fast as his injuries would allow. Every time he went to slow down, he was seized by the sudden conviction that Zim was at that very second slipping through the doors on the opposite side and put on a fresh burst of speed. Consequently, Dib was quite out of breath by the time he actually spotted Zim, approaching from about a half a block away and marching stiffly along the sidewalk toward the shopping maul as if leading a column of millions of others just like himself.

Dib paused long enough to shout at the alien, "Your plans will fail, Zim! I'm here to see to that!" before hurling himself forward once again.

Zim stopped to return the challenge. "Pi-ty-full doomed Hu-uma-an! You dare to oppose the unstoppable military might of Zi-ii-iiim?"

Dib leaped in front of a metal lamp post, defending it from the menacing alien invader. "That's right! I DO 'oppose the unstoppable military might of Zim!'"

Seeing Zim draw some kind of bulky and multi-colored indescribable space weapon, Dib crouched, preparing to jump just in case the weapon didn't misfire this time. By the time Zim fired, Dib had already jumped aside.

Zim's laser burned a small black-edged smoking hole about the size of a quarter clear through the metal pole of the lamp post. Had Dib chosen to stand behind the pole instead of in front of it, he wouldn't have seen the need to jump... and that smoking hole would now be running not only through the lamp post, but though Dib himself as well.

Outraged at having missed his target, Zim now began to rail at Dib. "Stu-upid huma-an! To-oo stu-upid to kno-ow that superior Irken military technology NEVER misses!"

As Zim ranted, Dib took advantage of this brief interval to reach under his trench coat for the net to hurl over Zim. Zim dodged just in time as Dib saw the net settle harmlessly over the fire hydrant Zim had claimed by similarly leaping in front of it.

Dib seized the edge of the net more firmly to throw it over Zim, but as it was still draped over the fire hydrant, he found himself yanked him backwards against the metal object. Losing his balance over a fire hydrant wouldn't usually have been such a big deal, but Dib groaned aloud as the metal edge bit with special venom into his previous bruises.

"Puny hu-uman!" gloated Zim. "If it hurts you that much when its fire ISN'T lit, imagine the agony that awaits you once the mighty stomping boot of Zi-ii-iiim subjugates your filthy inferior planet!" Zim ran through a long list of threatening predictions, each more horrific than the one before it, while Dib rubbed his fresh injury.

Right when Dib reached once more for the net, Zim reached the end of his rant. "I cannot loiter here any longer, Dib stink! I must go on to complete my mission. Why am I not shooting you full of ho-oles even now? Because I want you to beho-old ALL the DOOM I am going to rain on the DOOMED heads of your filthy DOOMED race! I want you to SEE the heap of smouldering DOOMED ashes your mightiest and most sacred edifice, this DOOMED shopping maul, will be... and your DOOMED Almighty Richest taken prisoner! AH HAH HAH HAH HAH!"

As Zim turned on his heel and left Dib shouted after him, "You'll never get away with this!" In his panic Dib kept turning the twine the wrong way and getting it still more tangled; peeling the net off the fire hydrant cost him precious seconds while Zim continued his marching into the shopping maul full of people.

Finally the net came free and Dib, his breath back, took off pelting after Zim as fast as he could.

Falling against the fire hydrant wouldn't have been much in itself, but that fresh bruise on top of the ones Gaz had placed there earlier was agonizing. Holding a hand over the spot where the pain most sharply stabbed through him with every step, Dib thought grimly that Gaz had sure picked a lousy time to compromise the speed and strength of earth's sole defender.

At last Zim had taken the final step that placed him inside the walls of that gleaming fortress, the human shopping maul. It had fallen without firing one single shot; seeing him approach, laser gun levelled at their puny glass doors, the humans had surrendered as soon as he stepped on the rubber mat and immediately opened the doors FOR him! On Irk the Tallest had slaves whose sole duty was opening and closing the doors as they entered or left each room; the humans had already set slaves aside for Zim for this very purpose! The stupid, weak-kneed humans milling all around him were just asking to be conquered. What a puny planet. If it weren't for the Dib he couldn't have claimed even that one brief battle.

Zim now looked around greedily at this concentration of outposts of earth's Almighty Richests. Where, oh where to unleash first the full fury of his unmerciful military might? The plastic store? The ring store? The paper store? The computer store? The sound store? Some human in the latter was warbling some nonsense about the absurdity of putting out fire with gasoline. Even the Dib human had tangled himself up in his own net! Humans did such stupid things it was a wonder they hadn't all exterminated themselves before the mighty Zim arrived to enslave them for some useful purpose.

Noticing something resembling a map, Zim stalked up to it. The humans had cleverly hidden the maul directory right in front of the doors but Zim's military genius had led him straight to it nevertheless! Zim's eye went straight to the largest square and immediately he decided that only the biggest store of all was worthy of doing battle with the mighty Zim! Once that fell, all the others would surrender like the puny earth drones that they were. Quite often the most impressive solution is also the most efficient, Zim told himself with satisfaction, locating the You Are Here star before setting off to subjugate the Almighty Richest of the planet earth.

Passing under a sign with an arrow pointing toward the "Food court," Zim shuddered and jerked his eyes back to his path. Later. Zim made a mental note that after taking over the maul, his very first order of business would be to vent the sharpest edge of his mighty vengeance upon its own Food Courtia.

When Dib finally made it inside the doors, he ran around through the crowd for a few moments flailing his arms in desperate bewilderment. Where in this huge sprawling behemoth of a maul could he possibly think to start looking for Zim?

Finally he slowed down enough to remember about the directory, and went over to it for a clue. Well, where else WOULD the little megalomaniac be headed BUT the biggest store in the place? Ducking and dodging shoppers excited about new purchases, seniors enjoying an evening stroll, families trying to keep track of each other, couples walking hand in hand, and wandering maulrats, Dib tore off as fast as he could toward the maul's flagship store, fervently hoping and praying he wasn't already too late.

Once inside the giant bay doors of the biggest store in the maul, Zim marched imperiously up to the first uniformed foot soldier he saw. Occupied by the order his superior officer had given him, this foot soldier was hard at work pulling one pair of sneakers after another out of a large cardboard box and with a gun of his own was attaching price tags to each pair before arranging them along a rack.

He didn't even look up at Zim's approach. This was never Zim's favorite way of winning, but a military victory was still a military victory. Playing dead never got an enemy shown mercy yet. Zim frowned with grim determination as he recalled the old Irken war motto... _If it lies to you, make it lie still. _

Zim stomped his boots right up to this soldier, aimed the laser at his back and commanded, "Surrender, DOOMED earth scum or be STOMPED by the mighty boot of Zi-ii-iiim!"

Uhhhh... right. The employee turned to barely glance at Zim, showing him heavy lidded, sleepy brown eyes, five o'clock shadow, and a name tag reading, "I am here just to serve you! Call me Mike!" Mike shook his head; this wouldn't be the easy shift he'd come in hoping for after all, not if the crazies were coming out this early.

"You dare to refu-uu-uuuse?" Zim cocked the weapon and lifted it to point to where Mike's brainmeats were. "Surrender NOW pity-ful DOOMED hu-uu-uman!"

Faced with so terrifying a threat, Mike now roused himself enough to look up from his task and wave to another uniformed soldier, this one a female, who immediately came over. Two had surrendered already; this would be more of a pushover than even Zim's genius had anticipated!

"Donna what's the best way to deal with this?" Mike asked, with a brief gesture of his thumb in Zim's general direction.

Perky and pony-tailed, Donna winked at Zim, which he knew was some kind of human signal but couldn't imagine what she could tell him that he didn't already know. "Already? I told you some night shifts would be like this!" she said to Mike before catching the eye of a third soldier to wave him over as well. What was this? The humans couldn't line up to turn themselves in fast enough!

This third soldier was a little older and his name tag read "Supervisor." Once he sent out the order to surrender, it would be all over; Zim would be forced to go and untangle the Dib human if he was ever to be tested with an actual fight!

"Look who flew in here tonight!" said Donna to Supervisor, grinning as if her entire planet wasn't DOOMED.

Much as he wanted to laugh out loud, Supervisor choked it back. So little about this position challenged him any more that he actually welcomed bizarre incidents like this one breaking up a slow shift. He'd milk this amusing interlude for all it was worth and recall it for a good chuckle after things went back to the same boring old routine. This wasn't even a case of a child pilfering stock; not even while clowning around in their own toy department had he ever seen a gun that ridiculous.

"'Take me to your leader!'" Supervisor said for the spunky kid aiming that laughable object at him and gritting teeth that looked for all the world like a zipper._ I don't know where he got that costume, but I could sure use one like it next Halloween!_ "Well, our CEO is the highest leader we've got to offer you, little buddy. But he's in a galaxy far, far away, sorry... but I CAN take you to all of the leaders of this particular asteroid!"

Zim pushed the point of the laser closer to Supervisor. "If you lie to the great Zi-ii-iiim by a single step, hu-uma-an, your DOOMED inferior earth organs shall be splattered all across your DOOMED inferior low earth ceiling."

"Doomed and inferior, gotcha." His shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter, Supervisor indulgently lifted his hands high above his head before doing a brisk about face. As Zim drove his helpless, quaking prisoner along, Supervisor led him out of the shoe department, through hardware, past electronics, appliances and finally large furniture, before showing him the wall of framed pictures next to the stairs leading up to the administration floor. With a parting pat on Zim's head, he said, "There, now, kid, any leader you want! They're all lined up like a shooting gallery so you can pick 'em off one by one! Have fun!"

Supervisor turned to head back to his own department, visualizing the kid aiming that ridiculous gun at the photograph of the Footwear Manager, a humorless, strictly by the book nitpicker for whom he nursed a particular dislike. Calling up an even more cathartic mental image of the genuine individual twitching like a marionette while being zapped full of holes, Supervisor barely made it to a king sized Rest In Peace box spring and mattress, on special that week

for only 999. Collapsing onto the bed, he buried his mouth into one of the pillows thrown in for free and unleashed roar after booming roar of laughter.

Even half a department store away, the laughter that got past the pillow put wings on Dib's feet. By this time he had heard that sound under unpleasant circumstances so often that unless he knew for sure what was so funny, he expected the worst. By the time Dib reached him, Supervisor was sitting up on the bed breathlessly wiping tears out of his eyes.

"Oh, no! I'm too late! Zim's already shot somebody!" Dib ran straight up to the shattered, hysterical eyewitness and gasped, "Quick! Where did he go?"

Immediately guessing who this kid was talking about, Supervisor indicated the company's organizational chart on the wall nearby, assuming Zim was still pointing that toy gun at the portraits. Dib raced up the nearby stairs, that unmistakable voice now galvanizing him still further. He followed the sound up a steep flight of stairs and down a cheaply panelled hall, tracking it down to a door with the words "General Manager" painted in white on its smudged glass window.

End of Part Two


	3. The Other Dark Side

Disclaimer: I don't own Invader Zim-clk-on't own Invader Zim-clk-on't own Invader Zim-clk SKRRRRTCH! Jhonen Vasquez does.

A great big thank you to all my reviewers! I've revised the latter two chapters just enough to accommodate your terrific suggestions... and your corrections! Never let it be said that I can't take constructive criticism graciously.

The Other Dark Side

Nearing the manager's door, Dib slowed down and cautiously peered through the glass window. He nearly panicked on seeing Zim suddenly standing much taller than usual as he held out that otherworldly weapon. In the next second he realized that Zim was not only standing on a chair, he was training every bit of his attention on something to Dib's right.

Behind a dark red desk piled high with papers and a few scattered sheets, a no longer young man in a dark blue suit was standing with his back to the wall, facing Zim.

Now that regular office hours were over, the manager had pulled off his tie, rumpling his collar in doing so. Undoubtedly he was lingering just long enough to tidy up a few loose ends before heading home. Aside from having raised his arms, he didn't seem overly concerned about facing a deadly laser gun. In fact he was smiling as indulgently as if one of his own kids had dropped in for a visit and invited him to play cops and robbers. For a fleeting second Dib allowed himself to wonder what kind of a welcome this man went home to night after night.

Fortunately Zim's placement, slightly to the right of the door and facing away from it, would allow Dib to ambush him if he moved quickly enough. Dib grabbed the doorknob and threw himself at the door but promptly collapsed against it; it was locked. Dib yanked a boot off and shattered the glass with a swing of its heel, heedlessly pushing his hand right in past the jagged edges of the hole to turn the doorknob and let himself in. "Drop your weapon, Zim!" Dib shouted, holding up his handcuffs.

For a few minutes the manager was prepared to humor a child in some weird supervillain costume who had borrowed one of the newer plastic guns from the toy department, maybe even to extend this tolerance to a second child chasing him and playing police officer, but vandalism was a different matter altogether. The smile fell from the manager's face as if he'd been wearing a mask and someone had just cut the string.

Distracted by the sudden commotion at the door, Zim had to take aim all over again, which bought Dib precious milliseconds. "Be vanquished forever, earth scu-um!" screamed Zim, preparing to fire. Just as he did so, Dib hurled himself through the air to tackle the alien to the floor, knocking the chair over as well. Instead of leaving a black-edged smoking hole through the manager, the laser left a black-edged smoking hole through all the layers of the ceiling... a hole which would completely escape detection until the next time it rained.

In his haste Dib had dropped his handcuffs; good thing he hadn't left the net over the fire hydrant! He now threw it over Zim without difficulty in these closer quarters. In trying to push the net away, Zim offered Dib an easy opportunity to grab the laser gun, which he would present as incontrovertible proof that here was no harmless little boy. Dib settled himself on Zim's chest, which made it none too easy for the alien to breathe.

Everything that had happened from the time Dib grabbed the doorknob took maybe ten seconds, during which the manager just stood there behind his desk with his mouth hanging open. Panting with exertion and the excitement of having captured Zim at last, Dib managed to ask the manager, "Are you okay, mister?"

"I'll show YOU okay, you crazy kid," the manager spluttered, finally reaching for his desk phone. "Security! GM's office! Naw, coupla brats!"

Dib felt a smug smile fasten itself to his face. _Take your time, no hurry,_ he wanted to add. Maybe this security guard would listen to him? If he kept trying long enough he'd have to eventually find someone who did!

That Zim could barely breathe didn't stop him from ranting and raving about how DOOMED the earth was and all the things he would do to it once he threw off this earth stink, etc. Having heard every word of it many, many times before, Dib soon tuned him out; in fact Zim now seemed more ridiculous than threatening. In the long moments as they waited for the security guard, Dib had some time to notice things about the office.

_This room sure has a lot of frames in it_, was Dib's first observation. On the other side of the door, over a case crammed with bowling trophies, hung framed certificates of thanks for hiring the mentally disadvantaged and for making regular donations to church raffles, charity auctions, and emergency collections.

The glass fragments scattered over the floor led Dib to now notice that the impact of his tackle had knocked a framed picture off the edge of the desk. He picked it up and contritely offered it to its owner. Scowling, the manager snatched his picture out of Dib's hand before setting it back on his desk, bitching heatedly about a crack in the glass.

From where he sat Dib could still see the picture. Here, the manager was considerably more relaxed, a husband and father sitting next to a woman who was sitting between their small children, a boy and a girl. All were smiling, and Dib felt his throat tighten. _That's pretty close to how I used to have it_, he said to himself

Noticing him studying the picture, the manager moved to block the door. Folding his arms high on his chest, he glowered down at them. _Never fear, I wouldn't think of escaping,_ thought Dib._ God knows I'VE certainly got no place better to be..._

On the wall next to the desk, a large multiple picture frame hung low enough that the manager could glance at it easily while sitting at his desk. It held the couple's wedding picture as well as several smaller snapshots. In spite of himself, Dib couldn't stop examining each picture.

In one, the angry manager now guarding the door was contentedly fishing with the same boy in the picture on the desk. In another, the boy was smiling just a little anxiously as his father steadied the two wheeled bike he sat on. Still another showed the boy holding his newborn sibling, another, the mother and baby in a rocking chair, yet another, the mother holding out her hands as the baby walked towards her.

A larger picture, taken later, showed the children on swings. The father stood behind the boy and the mother backed the girl. The girl's face was cheerful and open, Dib noticed, and the boy looked happy also. Dib was just about to jerk his glance elsewhere when one more picture caught his eye.

This final picture had been taken in a different living room; it seemed to be summer vacation and the father had been replaced by grandparents. At the very bottom of the frame, you could just see that the boy was reaching after a teddy bear which the girl was holding in one hand, a doll in the other. The boy didn't look too happy but nobody else in the picture seemed to even notice. They were just staring straight ahead into the camera, happily oblivious to what had just happened right in front of them.

Suddenly Dib decided that whatever he'd find on the opposite side of the room would be far more interesting than a total stranger's family album. On top of a metal filing cabinet lay a heart shaped slab of steak wrapped in cellophane, suddenly reminding Dib that today was Valentine's Day. This man had even remembered to pick up a bag of lollipops for his kids. Next to that sat a red teddy bear, which Dib suddenly realized was actually two, and -

At this point the manager sprang away from the office door, pointing to Dib and Zim as a beefy, grim-faced security guard filled the doorway. Everybody in the room together began shouting their version of what happened, but this security guard was used to quelling near riot situations.

"Fun's over, kids!" he boomed. He grabbed Dib's ear, but when he tried to grab Zim's he stopped short. "What the... ?"

Seeing his cue, Dib began screaming, "HE'S AN ALIEN! HE'S GOT NO EARS BECAUSE HE'S AN ALIEN!" at the top of his lungs.

"I said, 'fun's over'!" repeated the security guard in a voice that could crumble concrete.

"Then what's THIS?" Dib yelled, triumphantly holding aloft Zim's deadly laser gun. Let them try explaining THAT away!

But before Dib could believe it was happening, the manager had reached up from behind him, grabbed the laser gun out of his hand and given it back to Zim. "Here, sonny. Just make sure your mommy pays for this before you leave the store."

Zim seemed to briefly consider using the laser gun again, but clearly he considered the dumbfounded look of stupefied frustration on Dib's face victory enough for the moment. He marched out, declaring that he could no longer tell WHO was running this planet, an Almighty Richest or an Almighty Stupidest.

Dib turned to chase him but the security guard still had a grip on his ear. "Who's going to pay for that glass?" said the manager sternly. "Maybe I'd better call your parents, young man,"

"After him! He's getting away! He's dangerous!" Dib shouted, to no avail. The security guard was buying the manager's version.

Finally Dib realized there was only one way out of here. He asked how much the window and a new picture frame would cost, then opened his wallet and counted out just beyond that amount. He'd have to wait still longer to save enough for a state of the art camcorder with which to record incontestable proof of Zim's alien origin. "Okay NOW can I go?"

The manager looked at the guard and shrugged helplessly. "Kids these days. Spoiled, spoiled, spoiled. They're the kings of their houses and they get every last single thing they want."

Dib was too concerned about where Zim was heading even at that moment to pay attention to such absurdity. "Uh, guys? I GOTTA leave... NOW?"

"And that's exactly why we've got problems like this one here today."

Dib was forced to stay for a lecture by the manager, followed immediately after that by another one from the security guard. After they finally ran out of things to say to him, they let him put his boot back on, retrieve his handcuffs, and leave. By the time Dib made it outside the maul, Zim had disappeared. But where had he gone?

"Human. Dib stink. Up here!" Zim shouted down to him from a ramp coming from the parking garage. "I'll never stop waging war on this DOOMED planet!" Zim shouted, just before that green dog flew by and picked him up.

Shaking his fist, Dib replied, "And I'll always be there to stop you, Zim!" as Zim zoomed away on whatever that flying green dog was.

Checking his watch, Dib saw that this whole thing had taken an hour, if that. But he was in no particular hurry to go back... to resume getting beaten up where he'd left off, most likely. He'd kill some time in the maul's bookstores, and when they finally closed, there were always those 24 hour places.

It was late; shadows filled the silent house. At every sound outside, Gaz tensed. The second Dib came through the door she was going to fly straight into him for staying away so long. She played on; without Dib around, she had only the figures on the screen at which to vent her anger.

Around 10:30, tired of waiting, she finally turned off her GameSlave. She would have to go to bed in a silent, dark, and lonely house. That lazy, selfish Dib still hadn't returned. Whenever he did feel like showing up he would pay and pay dearly. It was just a simple matter of punishing him until she received her apology.

For all the convenience it offers, a 24 hour MacMeaties is a depressing place to be late at night. At 11:30, the people who are actually there for the food usually have better places to go immediately afterwards, and the people who remain do so for lack of any other place to go. It is here that the unfortunate flotsam of humanity, the hobos and the hookers, gravitate for cheap sustenance. Any employees stuck with the back shift are only distant relations to the peppy representatives that people the company's advertisements. Fighting their bodies's hunger for sleep drains their energy constantly so that they feel slowly pulled right into the very floor. The forced cheeriness of the decor, so invigorating in the daylight hours, merely emphasizes the emptiness and gloom now lurking outside the blackened windows.

Here it was that Dib sat yawning in a quiet corner booth, one which offered enough room for a family of four. He would have long ago set out for a friend's house... if only he had one. Lingering over a burger, large fries and extra large soda, he went through one newspaper after another, line by line. Dib kept glancing at his watch, waiting for a time when he felt certain that the house would be dark and safe. He was in no hurry to walk into another beating as soon as he did return home.

Home? Home. What a joke that was, home. That was no home, that was a workplace, a workplace even more wretched than this one. In the place Dib called home, the physical and verbal abuse was unrelenting and apparently fully sanctioned, for doing all the chores himself he received exactly the same allowance as someone who did not a single tap of work, all respect and consideration ran along a one way street, and what was worst of all, he couldn't even tell anybody where to stick the job and quit!

By now Dib was down to the classifieds. "For sale: one moose head trophy." "For sale: electric typewriter, no ribbon, excellent condition." "For sale: one snow blower, needs tires, runs fine." By this time, Dib was finding a chuckle in every ad. _How can it run... if it needs tires? _Funny how when you were this tired even the most ordinary things could strike you funny...

Finally Dib finished the last paper. He carefully stacked them in a pile while sipping the last of his soda. Checking his watch once again before resting his chin on his hand, Dib stared into space, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier. With no additional distractions in front of him, Dib turned his thoughts back to the events of the night. What a weird office... what woman needs two teddy bears... of the same color at that... Suddenly the relevant details of what he had seen in that office clicked into place in Dib's mind and he sat upright wide awake.

Two teddy bears of the same color... so the children wouldn't fight over who got what... a very small thing in itself but nothing was small when your sibling would give you no peace over it and this was a father who not only noticed but who definitely cared... and Dib of all people knew only too well what could only too easily happen had that family lost a parent tonight and seen its delicate balance upset.

Because Dib had insisted on going out, one of the very houses he couldn't even stand to look at as he left would remain happy... and that was why, despite Gaz lying in wait for him, he felt such satisfaction now. Perhaps, Dib reflected, he protected others so vigorously because he was so much in need of it himself; forbidden to defend himself, he felt compelled to defend everybody else.

True, Zim still remained at large, but Dib had tonight certainly saved a life, and "Who saves one life, saves the world entire." He'd heard that in some movie, but right now he didn't remember which one, and by this time he was far too tired to try recalling it anyway.

Yawning, Dib checked his watch once more. It finally seemed late enough to leave... 12:35... although Dib would be sure to walk completely around the house checking for lights before actually unlocking the door. Come to think of it, these days her mood at breakfast had been even worse than usual. However that still didn't mean he was in any special hurry to collect an additional beating on top of the one he'd get in the morning. He'd set his alarm clock to awaken him a half hour earlier the next morning, which would be plenty of time for doing his homework. Quickly dispensed with as it was, the consequences of leaving it undone were still not worth the risk.

Dib returned the pile of newspapers to the counter from which he had borrowed them, then threw the wrappers and whatever cold fries he hadn't eaten into the trash on his way out.

Once outside the restaurant, Dib remembered how pleasant the night could be... as long as he stayed to well-lit areas and kept his distance from strangers. Nighttime moved to a completely different tempo from that of the urgent and perpetually impatient daytime, the altered lighting lent an intriguing film noir atmosphere to even the most familiar and ordinary, and of course, now Dib could see all his beloved stars...

Dib drank in the peace and stillness of the dark and starry night. A long walk under the night sky always did help him sleep better.

The End


End file.
